Porcelain Heart

A look at how I'd felt months ago when it seemed as though my family didn't 'care'.

Why can’t we talk like we used to,
when we used to be so close
that you would know
if something was wrong.

I don’t know
if I’ve gotten better at hiding it
or if you overlook
the pieces of my broken heart.

But as they lie scattered around me
you walk on by,
oblivious to the fact
of what you’ve stepped upon.

You shatter
the already broken pieces
of my porcelain heart
with every step you take.

After you walk away,
I open up
my closed off mind
and think to myself,

”Will what allows me
to feel stay broken,
leading me to be
partially numb, forever?

Or will the winds of fate
blow the remains
of my heart
into the hands of time?”

That is how I try
to put the pieces
back together.

But the sad truth is; I can’t.
All I can do,
is hope
for it to mend itself.